Long Ago
by Blynneda
Summary: Epilogue to "All Our Yesterdays" It's my first Star Trek fic, I hope it goes well. Just a little language of the sort you hear when watching your average tv show these days.


Long Ago

Disclaimer:  Yeah, yeah, I don't own these guys.  Duh.  If I did, you think I'd be writing here, instead of sipping pina coladas in a condo in Bermuda?  To be honest, I wouldn't really want to live in Bermuda, since I'm not a huge fan of hot weather, but that's just me.  It's hypothetical, of course.  I'd be rich, I tell you, rich!   Wow, judging by this disclaimer, you'd think this story was a laugh riot (or at least an attempt at humor).  Sadly, it's not.  This is an epilogue to "All Our Yesterdays."  Personally, I like to read short, humorous stories usually.  Maybe this'll be reasonably short.  But if it's anything like this bloody disclaimer, it won't be.  Gads!

            McCoy stopped to collect himself momentarily outside Spock's quarters.  His hands were shaking; he still hadn't fully recovered from the intense cold on Sarpeidon, he reasoned.  But his medical training and tricorder readings threw that all to bunk.  Physically, he was fine.  Emotionally, well, that's what brought him to the _Enterprise_'sleast emotional corner.

            McCoy could still feel the wiry vise-grip around his throat, cutting off his air supply even as he taunted, goaded him.  "_Are you trying to kill me, Spock?_" he had asked pointedly.  He very well could have.

            _He's not going to talk to me.  Not right now.  Maybe if I waited, let him get over the pain…_

            No.  This was the only time.  If he waited, he would never through the emotional shell that Spock slipped back on in place of the wooly hide he left behind.

            He buzzed the door, requesting entrance.  "Come in," came faintly from within.  The door slid open, McCoy stepped inside and allowed it to slip back into place behind him.

            McCoy never felt quite comfortable in Spock's quarters.  The room seemed stark and unwelcoming compared to his own or the captain's.  He glanced around uneasily at the Vulcan relics, his eyes finally settling on Spock, who was reading from a data screen.

            "Doctor," he acknowledged quietly without looking up.

            _Here goes nothin'._  "Listen, Spock," he began, "I think we need to talk."

            "There is nothing further to discuss regarding our last mission."  Still didn't look up.

            "No.  I don't care if _you_ don't want to talk.  _I _need to say something.  I need to find out where I stand with you."

            "Our relationship remains as it always has been."

            McCoy let out a laugh.  "Not quite, there, pointy.  You tried to kill me, remember?  I sure as hell won't forget any time soon."

            "And I apologize for that.  I was not myself at the time."  Distant, totally devoid of emotion.  No response, even at the mild insult.  Once he had attacked him in anger over it.

            "That's just it, you aren't yourself now!  Spock, what's the matter with you?  Can't you even _look_ at me?"  McCoy walked up to Spock and crossed his arms.  Finally, Spock turned in his chair to face McCoy.

            "I know you're feeling something under all that Vulcan logic," McCoy continued.  "I _know_ it!  And I really don't care what you try to claim.  You haven't been the same since we got back—if no one else noticed, _I_ have."

            "In what way am I different?"

            McCoy scowled with intensity.  "You're cold…distant.  Jim makes a joke and you just ignore him.  It's as if you were so repulsed by your display of emotion that you can't expose yourself to any more."

            "I am Vulcan.  I do not experience emotion.  I believe I have explained this to you before," Spock said dismissively.

            "That's a load of bollocks and you know it.  I never believed all of that Vulcan emotionless crap you're always throwing at us.  Vulcans were more emotional than human before your logical revolution."  Here McCoy grinned.  "Besides, you're half human.  We both forget that all too often."

            Spock turned back to his display, a long text, probably a technical journal.  "If that is your only point, you have made it.  I am sure you have as much work to do as I."

            "Dammit, Spock, I'm your doctor, and whether you want to admit it or not, I'm also your _friend_.  Don't hide from me!"

            Spock glanced up sharply.  _Surprise?_ a detached part of McCoy thought with amusement.  They stared into each other's eyes for a long moment.

            Finally, Spock spoke.  "Do you realize how much of my time I spend trying to control my emotions among hundreds of wildly emotional humans?"

            McCoy didn't bat an eye.  "Of course you do.  You've always got to be the logical one."

            "I was raised as a Vulcan under the principles of logic.  Therefore, I refuse to concede to your emotional state simply because I am among you."

            "Okay.  I can understand that."

            "On Sarpeidon with Zarabeth, I felt absolutely no restraint.  It was as if a part of my consciousness had been removed.  I was…unable to control myself for the first time in my life."  Spock looked down.  "And I _enjoyed_ it."

            McCoy smiled slightly.  "It's the way the rest of us feel every day.  You take the good with the bad—the happiness with the fear, the anger, the rage.  And we've decided to accept that.  And the Vulcans—"

            "Could not," Spock finished.

            McCoy stepped back into a less aggressive position.  "It doesn't mean you're not Vulcan.  You didn't lose what it _means_ to be Vulcan on that planet.  In fact, I think maybe you know better than anyone on your planet, because you," he pointed, "you experienced what your ancestors experienced.  Your savage, barbaric ancestors."

            Spock stared thoughtfully into the distance.

            McCoy chuckled.  Spock looked up questioningly.  "It's nothing," McCoy smiled.  "Well, I was just thinking.  You and Jim, you're both the same.  You always fall for the girl you can't have.  And what's the good in that, after all?"

            Perhaps Spock could have smiled.  Perhaps.

            "Listen.  I think I'll leave you now.  I'm sure you've got plenty to do.  I—I've interrupted you long enough.  You said it yourself, this happened long ago.  Centuries in our past."  McCoy turned.

            "Doctor," Spock stopped him with a word.  "Are you familiar with the concept of star-crossed lovers?"

            McCoy raised an eyebrow and faced Spock again.  "Well, it's been quite a widely-covered topic throughout Earth's history."

            "Yes.  I have been reading Earth literature.  Shakespeare."

            "And it's…fascinating?" McCoy asked with a smile.

            "Yes.  You devote much thought to love."

            "And now you know.  Love is the most important emotion of all."  McCoy held Spock's gaze for a moment longer, then turned again to leave.

            "_Love_," McCoy heard Spock say softly, just before the door slid closed.


End file.
